Meeting At The Lowermost Circle
by Phoenix of the Air
Summary: At the celebrations of his daughter's wedding to Aragorn, the King of Gondor, Elrond meets a stranger. Oneshot. Complete. Rated T only for safety. Genres: Mystery, Family and Suspense. Please read and review. :)


_Author's Note:_

_Not romance of any sort._

_Flames are not welcome. _

_Constructive criticism is welcome._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Tolkien's works._

**~S~**

Elrond let a small smile grace his features as he watched the people of Minas Tirith cheer on the dancing. The celebrations after the wedding of his daughter, Arwen, with Aragorn were underway. It was well into the night, the great Lord thought with mild amusement, and yet the people showed no signs of stopping. He had to admit, the Race of Men show unlimited energy when it came to partying.

He had quietly left the dancing in the Citadel, desiring a moment of peace from the nonstop introductions with the Gondorian nobles. Aragorn would have a tough time indeed, Elrond mused. Those Gondorian nobles were stiff, like hungry wolves grasping their meat. In this case, power.

He slowly walked down the slope to the lower levels of the White City. There was ruin on either side of him, and the debris had not yet been removed completely. The people had been quite desirous to celebrate and welcome their Queen's coming.

He was not the only elf visiting the lower levels. He found Celeborn's wardens playing music while the men and women danced to the tunes. Some of the elves had joined the Rohirrim and were chatting amiably. Elrond smiled softly. It was indeed quite a change, to see his race mingle with that of Men.

He clasped his hands behind his back, his silver-grey robes swishing about as he walked. The signs of the war were even on the faces of people. Not all would forget the War so quickly, but they will learn from it and they will live on in hope and under a just King's rule.

He reached the lowermost circle, where most of the merrymaking was taking place. The elves were clapping their hands to the rhythm of the music, and the people danced and twirled. There was a flurry of colors of blue, green, gold and silver, all tinted red in the firelight. The gates were destroyed, but the people did not mind. Some sat up on the debris to take a better look of the festivities. At a corner was a group of Gondorian soldiers and rangers. Mingled among them were Elrond's own soldiers, whom he recognized by names. Elrond laughed softly and turned his attention to the dance taking place in the middle of the large clearing.

"They certainly do not tire, do they?"

Elrond turned his head at the unfamiliar voice. Standing beside him was a tall elf who he did not know. He had long, fair hair that curled slightly at the tips. His features were overly sharp, which was typical for a Noldorin elf. The stranger had tilted his head slightly to listen to the music. There was warm smile on the elf's face that drastically reduced the sharp facial features, making him look lively and welcoming.

"They do not, it seems." Elrond replied courteously.

Still smiling, the elf turned his head towards Elrond.

Piercing gray eyes met his gray ones. For a moment, Elrond paused for a breath and narrowed his eyes just slightly. Those eyes burnt slightly with an inner flame, like his sons did when they grieved after their mother's torture and they desired for revenge so terrible that they hunted orcs for decades without rest.

And then the moment was gone, the gray eyes lost the inner fire and were honest and welcoming again. The stranger turned his head in surprise when the people let out a particularly loud whoop of laughter.

"I really must commend their stamina." The elf remarked. Elrond noticed the slightly thick accent as the elf spoke Westron.

"And here I was hoping for some rest tonight after such a long travel." Elrond joked amiably. The elf gave a throaty chuckle.

"Oh, I came here for the reasons quite the opposite. I had missed the rowdy nature of the Race of Men."

"Forgive me, but where do you hail from?" Elrond asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

The elf turned his head to regard him again, and once more Elrond was caught by the fire in his eyes. Then the moment was gone.

"I come from the Sea." The elf replied vaguely, turning his head again. The stranger clapped his hands as one of the dancers made a particularly high leap and then crossed his arms.

"You mean the Grey Havens?" Elrond asked. The elf laughed fully this time.

"Perhaps," the elf replied, his voice containing a hint of merriment as if he had a personal joke in his mind.

"Or do you mean from Valinor?" Elrond bargained, giving the mysterious elf a scrutinizing look.

"Valinor will be more close to the truth, I believe." The elf replied, glancing at Elrond without moving his head.

Those gray eyes… full of light and warmth. Then the elf looked away from him again. From the chuckles, Elrond guessed that the elf knew full well how the short answers frustrated him.

"I have not met you before, have I?" Elrond asked slowly.

Those eyes were familiar…

"Nay, I believe this is the first time we have met."

And yet, so different…

"And yet you seem so familiar." Elrond pressed.

"I believe we elves have some similarities in our looks. You must have mistaken me for someone else." The elf said smoothly.

The way he stood…

"What business have you here?" Elrond asked, his curiosity making him forget his manners for a moment.

"Business? What need of business is there tonight of all nights?" the elf laughed and cocked his head slightly to admire the view around him. There was laughter as the people added skillful steps into the dance, chatter as the people embraced one another and the unseen feelings of contentment, relief and brotherhood that were laced between the people, drawing them towards one another. The elf looked slightly surprised, at least to Elrond's eyes, as if the elf could not believe that he was here and alive and well.

At that moment, the people looked up at the slop leading to the higher levels of Minas Tirith and a gave a louder cheer.

"Ah," the elf said with mild interest. "The King and Queen arrive, I see."

Elrond looked and felt a pang of pain. Arwen stood in a shimmering dress of purple, her hair flowing freely and a crown resting on her head. She held hands with Aragorn, who was dressed in full ceremonial armor, his famous sword Anduril resting on his hip. They cut an impressive figure, but the married couple joined the dance with a quick word and a laugh.

"She looks very similar to someone I once knew." The elf said thoughtfully as he stroked his chin. Elrond glanced at the elf once more and noticed that the elf was wed.

"My daughter resembles Lúthien of Doriath." Elrond said. "It is well-known among our people, I believe."

The elf seemed genuinely startled this time. He turned fully to regard Elrond closely, as if he was seeing him for the first time.

"I see," the elf said slowly. "Am I in the presence of Lord Elrond of Imladris?"

At that, Elrond truly considered the idea that the elf was perhaps touched in the head. Who did not know of him? Elrond wondered. He was not at all too obsessed by his own name, but now that the elves were fewer in number, such knowledge was common to all. It was surprise that this elf truly knew so little so as not to recognize him.

"Indeed, I am." Elrond replied formally, letting none of his questions show upon his face.

"Hm," the elf said thoughtfully and then he turned to look back at the couple. "She will do well, it seems. The people accept her already."

"Indeed, they do." Elrond could not keep the tint of sorrow from his voice.

"Keep heart, Elrond son of Eärendil. Your daughter will see such happiness that the sorrow afterward will hopefully not mean much."

"You speak as if you know such things."

"I speak after seeing what I see in front of me." The elf replied.

"Truly, what is your business here?"

"I come to see the land they claimed would become great as the years pass." The elf said. Then he turned and looked at Elrond. His gaze was soft but strong and direct, open. "You look like Dior of Doriath, Lord Elrond."

Those eyes… that fire…

"Tell me who you are, truly." Elrond commanded; his hand moved to the Ring of Fire on his other hand as if it had a mind of its own. The action was useless, however, for the Ring of Fire lost its power the moment the One Ring was destroyed.

"Ah, someone who commands me," the elf said, completely unperturbed by Elrond's distrust. "Fear me not, Elrond! I am not your enemy, not any longer. As for my name…"

Giving a lively laugh that brightened his face, the stranger opened his arms wide. Only then did Elrond notice the arm guards, the short tunic for freedom of movement and the hair that was braided away from his face to leave vision unhindered. He had been so taken by the elf's manner and his eyes that he had missed such obvious details.

"Your foster-fathers may have spoken to you of me." The elf said softly. "But it seems you will need the time to search your memory. But they call me Tyelkormo."

Elrond's mind searched, but his heart knew the name already. He saw the elf's smile grow wider before he disappeared into the crowd.

And even as he gave chase to the elf that Elrond would still not dare name, he knew it was useless. How does one chase the greatest hunter of the elves? How does one chase the one who knows the trails and the signs of his prey? Rather, Elrond knew he could easily be one that is hunted.

He came to the streets that were dark and empty, as the people had crowded where they could meet easily. Elrond's heart hammered in his chest, but it was not from fear but anticipation. His foster-fathers…

"Celegorm!" Elrond shouted, his voice echoing in the streets. "Why have you come? Tell me truly?"

But he heard no reply. For Celegorm, the Hunter had led Elrond here and then slowly crept back to the celebrating crowd. He pulled on his hood and mounted his horse. He had originally planned to stay longer, but the unfortunate meeting with Lord Elrond of Imladris altered his plans. He only turned his head to look back at the celebrating people and gave a small smile. This would be quite a tale to tell to his six brothers.

As for Elrond, he had leaned against the wall of the house and smiled a little. He was shaken. Who would not be after seeing a face that was supposed to be dead and doomed forever? But Celegorm's smile was carefree and the fire in his eyes was untainted by any Oath. The Feanorians were free; it seemed, by Oaths and all horrors of the past. They had been redeemed.

And that probably meant, Elrond thought with a feeling of hope rising in his chest, that his foster-fathers were alive and well.

Elrond turned and made his way back to the Citadel. He needed to think, and to remember childhood long past.

**~S~**

_Author's Note:_

_Tyelkormo is the mother-name of Celegorm._

_Before I get flamed for writing something completely off the chart, I would say that I should be heard out, at the very least._

_I am one of the people who truly believe that the sons of Feanor were redeemed and were allowed to live once again as a second chance. The idea came to my mind after reading the part from Tolkien's works: (which, forgive me, the direct words have escaped my mind)_

_"And what of my foster-father?" Elrond asked._

_"He has found love," Gandalf replied. "And of that, I can say no more."_

_So it lead me to believe that Maglor may have been forgiven for his past actions. As a chance to redeem themselves, his brothers may have been reborn and allowed to work together and earn the Valar's graces. That probably meant that they went to place that was neither Middle-Earth or Valinor. The actions above must have happened before the War of the Ring even started, so I believe Maglor was redeemed fairly quickly. _

_On choosing Celegorm for the story, I had thought that Maglor would be too obvious, and I always considered Celegorm to be the curious and reckless one to give away his identity. _

_The story is a little like a symbol of hope, compared with the celebrating people and a grieving lord of Rivendell. _

_Reviews are always welcome._


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